A Number's Game
by Breelin
Summary: On the way through the Everglades Marina falls unconscious. Waking up, she finds herself in a magical place called Oz, or what she fears is one of Setrakus Ra's mind games. The only option is to find a way out; but that's easier said than done when Marina finds herself involved in Oz's Numbers War, and runs into a certain Garde she thought she'd never see living again. 7x8
1. Bruised and Scarred

**_WARNING: INTENSE SPOILERS FROM FALL OF FIVE TO FOLLOW_**

_John and Ella are safe and comatose in Chicago for as far as Marina knows. Five has just been revealed as having been working for the Mogs and while trying to kill Nine, who seems to have sustained a spinal cord injury, killed Eight instead. Out of anger Marina discovers a new legacy that allows her to manipulate ice, and accidentally froze Eight's body. Before he can be defrosted, Marina, Six and Nine are forced escape on their fan boat or face the advancing Mogadorian attack._

* * *

**Bruised and Scarred: Mayday Parade**

_**It all goes back to the first kiss  
It was the one I thought I'd never miss  
Maybe we were one of the lucky ones  
Maybe I'm just not quite strong enough**_

* * *

I've always been a rather shy person, granted. I never liked too much attention, and I've never been that great in social situations. I have to wonder if living at the convent my entire life had been detrimental to my already dicey social skills. Maybe if I were to have moved around a lot like the others I could be as courageous as Six or as outgoing as John. Even Ella, who's still just a kid, has a naturally friendly spirit that others just adore.

That's not to say I don't think I have good attributes. My own personality notwithstanding, I've never needed great social skills to be able to bond with the rest of the remaining Garde. It's never been awkward (maybe at certain times) and we've always gotten along (more or less) and we've always been able to share everything with each other (pretty much). It's a thing we'd have, you know? The last of the Loric race _should_ be able to speak freely and not be afraid.

But for the first time since the day I met Six, I'm scared of them.

I know Six is doing everything in her power to navigate us through the Everglades as quickly and stealthily as possible, but a fan boat isn't exactly ideal for a good getaway. I'm on my knees, and feeling every bump along the way as we twist our way through rocks and trees. My hair and clothes are practically molded to my skin with sweat—and don't get me started on what's going on under my arms.

Lying on his back in front of me is Nine, one leg bent at a strange angle although he doesn't seem to notice or care. He hasn't spoken a word since we got on the boat, not even an ouch as Six slammed him down on the deck of the boat and dashed for the boat's controls.

My hands shake as I reach out and place them on Nine's chest, careful not to move him too much. Although I know I can heal it, I've been told that it's bad to move someone with a spinal cord injury. Instantly I feel the iciness of my healing legacy taking an effect, and for a moment I relish in the fact that I just developed a new one. From now on I don't just have to be Marina the healer, I can actually fight. I've always had to rely on my almost non-existent combat ability, but now I won't have to. In any other situation, I'd think we would be celebrating. But now…

I feel Nine's eyes rake over me and out of instinct I glance at the sky. The dark vapor from Six's storm is just beginning to fade away revealing the true blue sky, and fortunately there doesn't seem to be anyone pursuing us. In any case, though, I'm glad we don't stop moving.

In my peripheral vision I see Nine close his eyes, and I take the opportunity to lower my gaze back to my hands. Like I said, I'm terrified right now, for more than one reason.

I'm absolutely terrified to look into his eyes.

I'm scared of what I might see... or maybe what I won't. Remorse, sorrow, grief? All possible, but Nine has always struck me as the loose cannon type. I don't know what I'll see if our eyes meet, but I know that whatever it is will send everything rushing back.

No. I refuse—can't be mad at him. We can't afford to lose Nine because the rest of us are angry with him. Especially after… after… I don't even think I can comprehend it.

For some reason the world is beginning to look a little fuzzy, and I can't help but feel even more hot despite the coolness of my Legacy at work. I feel like I can hear someone whispering my name, but I can see Nine's lips firmly pressed together and Six doesn't seem to be making any attempt at contact as she focuses on steering. It must be the wind from the fan playing tricks on me. Regardless of that, I feel dizzy enough to retract my hands from Nine's torso as I try to regain my focus.

"Marina?" He croaks. He doesn't sound like himself. _Damaged_ is the first word that comes to mind.

I swallow, faking a smile. "Just a sec, need a break." I all but whisper, putting one leg underneath me and clamoring to my feet. I'm barely standing before I can feel my knees weakening and I fall against the guard rail. I clutch onto it with both hands as my head begins to spin.

"Marina?" This time it's definitely Six yelling over the wind, but the roar of the fan doesn't stop so I assume she's still at the helm of the boat.

I want to tell them I'm fine, not to worry especially after so much has already happened, but I can't seem to form the words in my mouth. I press my weight against the railing, my head sagging over the side like I'm about to puke. The air around me is starting to turn gold, which can't be right. Air isn't gold. Six is yelling my name and so is Nine, but now I can directly pick out the sound of another girl calling my name. She sounds so calm as she chants it over and over that I lull my neck down.

The world turns from gold to black as my shoulders give away my weight and I go toppling over the side of the fan boat. I'm plunged into the warm brown water, my body beginning to sink to the bottom as the air dispels from my lungs. My instincts are urging me to swim, but my mind is too far gone.

* * *

I'm lying on my side as I jump back into consciousness. My eyes pop open as suck in a strangled breath, my hands going to my throat. I immediately feel stupid for doing so, I mean, _I can breathe underwater_. But still, I feel a little… odd. My energy feels completely zapped, and I let my hands fall to my sides as my eyes flutter closed. I don't want to move, neither do I feel like I can.

It was late afternoon by the time we had arrived at the everglades, but for some reason the sun feels even hotter. I run my tongue over my lips; it feels like running plywood over sandpaper. I need to get some water, get back to the rest of the Garde, but my skin feels tight and my muscles weak. _Heat exhaustion_ something says in the back of my mind.

"Six?" I rasp, my voice barely audible over the sound of running water. _Running water_. My brain is barely working, but I can understand as much that this water source must be behind me. Using all my power I flip myself over, turning onto my other side to face a crystalline river. It's rapid but the water looks clean, overriding any hesitancy I might have had had I more sense.

I try to drag myself to the bank but my hands shake and I can barely use my legs to kick myself along. The river sprays as it hits the rocks on the side, but it's just out of my range. Only a few more feet…

In the background I hear a dog barking, followed by a high pitched gasp. I try not to panic as I hear a girl yell: "Get her away from the water! Quickly!"

The next thing I know something strong has clamped down on the collar of my shirt and begins to drag me away from the river. I try to kick but I can barely manage it, and soon a pair of warm hands have caught my under the arms and are lifting me farther away.

I try to yell for help but I've already done too much and I black out again.

* * *

This time I wake up on my back. I open my eyes to see a fading blue sky, the sun nowhere in sight. The air is reasonably cooler now. It must be around dusk, which has me concerned for how long I was out for.

Wanting to ready myself for whatever is going on, I force myself to sit up. It's a bit of a head rush so I plant my hands in the grass to steady myself, but other than that I feel fine (and in-tact). The river is out of sight, and to my left is a little homemade fire still in its adolescence. Everywhere else… I don't even know where to begin. I suddenly feel very, _very_ awake. This place is _most definitely_ not the Everglades.

This new environment is lush, but not in the tropical way the Everglades were. It's rich with tall, green trees and large plants sporting all kinds of flowers. In fact, there are flowers everywhere—in the trees, on the ground and in every nook and cranny, making the entire forest look like a brightly coloured rainbow. Everything is so overgrown, but not in a way that looks unattended.

I seem to be sitting in a small clearing all by myself, with a fire I most definitely didn't make. The forest around me is silent, but I don't suppose it will stay that way for very long as the sky above me is quickly turning black.

Worse yet there's no sign of Six or Nine (or how exactly I got here) which has me wondering what's really going on. My mind jumps to Ella telling me about the dreams that were attacking her at night. Could this be a mind assault from Setrakus Ra? What could possibly be the purpose of this?

"Oh! You're awake!" My head whips to the side, where to my relief (or horror, not sure yet) I see Sarah standing on the edge of the undergrowth. She smiles at me; her hair in perfect ringlets, infused with all kinds of flowers to the point it appears she's growing them from her scalp. She steps out from the greenery to reveal a long green gown with flowers sewn into the fabric. Now I know for sure I'm out of my mind.

From behind Sarah's skirt I see Bernie Kosar poke his head out, cocking his head to the side in a curious look.

"Sarah, what's going on?" I'm glad to hear my voice has at least returned to me. "Where are we? Where are the others?"

She doesn't answer, but instead approaches me cautiously. Bernie Kosar seems to lose interest in watching me from afar and walks right around Sarah to lie down by my side. I rub his head absentmindedly before I realize that this is no time for petting and retract my hand.

Sarah seats herself on the other side of the fire before she finally lowers her arms as if relinquishing her last line of self defense. What was she expecting me to do, exactly?

"What's your name?" She finally asks me.

"What? Do you not remember me? What's—"

"What's your name?"

"I'm Marina, but Sarah, you know that!"

"Marina, you have to listen to what I have to say." She says firmly, although I can tell that she's done this kind of thing before from the tone of her voice. I'm almost convinced that I've lost my mind, but I nod anyways.

She smiles slightly before beginning to speak. I let my hand wander back to Bernie Kosar's scruffy back for comfort. "You are correct in knowing my name is Sarah, I am the Witch of Paradise." She motions towards our surroundings. "But more particularly the Paradise River."

She could have put a sack on her head and told me her name was Cream of Wheat, it all spoke the same message: One way or another I've lost control of my mind. This can't be a vision of the future—I don't think there's ever going to be a future where Sarah is a witch of a river.

"Sarah… we wouldn't happen to be on Lorien, would we?" I ask, although I know I'm already grasping at straws.

"Please allow me to finish, but no, this is not Lorien. My river, the Paradise River, leads to one place, and that is to me in Paradise. When you fell into the river, you were swept up by my river's waters and brought here. This world is like none other than I'm sure you've seen—The River has brought you to the land of Oz."

She sounds like she's off her speech as she glances down at her feet. "It's my job, you see, to guide the people who wash up in Paradise. Lately I haven't really been able to do such a great job, and I'm very sorry you were lying out for so long." She looks back up at me. "But I must say, compared to others you are taking this quite well, Marina."

My eyes prick, and I begin blinking rapidly to hold back tears. _Tears_. I'm such an idiot. If this were to happen to Six she wouldn't cry, neither would Nine or John or Eigh— "But why me?" I ask, although I'm just talking for the sake of keeping myself intact.

"Why does anything happen at all?" Sarah shrugs, laughing quietly. "The River chooses people who need help. You are here for a reason, Marina."

"But is there any way back?" I feel like I'm choking on my words.

Sarah smiles faintly, but she has a hollow look in her eyes that gives me the sense she's had to deliver these same bad news multiple times, and each time it's never gone over so well. "I'm sorry… no."

I just lost it. I won't try and dress it up, I completely lost it. Sarah's come around the fire and I feel her place a hand on my back, trying to soothe me, but I felt much too far past the point of return. I squeeze my eyes shut and just let the hot tears leak down my face. At first I can feel Sarah trying to catch them, but they soon become too many and they fall to the sand. In seconds it feels like I full-blown waterfall.

I just let myself go at it for a while, crying and moaning and trying to let Sarah's comforting words affect my mood. But it feels good just to cry, like I'm letting out all of the emotions I've pent up since the beginning of all of this.

Adelina, Hector, Crayton and now Eight, the newest addition to my starting lineup of heartbreaks, maybe the worst yet. I can't even wrap my head around it—that his smile and his laugh and his ever-positive attitude have been snatched up and tossed out. To think that I once thought we may have had a chance to be happy…

And now Five's betrayal, and Ella and John back in Chicago in a comatose state, Nine incapacitated and Six all alone to fight off possible pursuers. The Garde, the resistance, _Lorien's only hope_ is falling apart and they need me, and I can't be there because I'm _here_. Stuck in my own mind.

"Come on now, be strong." Sarah whispers to me.

"I don't know how!" I sob, burying my face in my hands. "I c-couldn't even s-save him! I couldn't do anything to stop it!" I knew that this was going to hit me hard, but now I wonder if I would have ever been able to prepare myself for this.

She's silent for a moment, letting me soak in my own tears. "I no longer have the power to send you back. They were stolen by another witch long ago." She says back to me. "But there may be someone else who could help you go back home. First, you're going to have to pull yourself together. You're not helping anyone like this."

I nod, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. Leave it to Sarah to use logic against my silly actions. I try to control my breathing but it's still coming in gasps. My throat still feels like it's slowly closing up, suffocating me.

"Calm down." She says steadily, continuing to rub my back in circles. It takes a few minutes of hiccuping and coughing, but soon enough I've caught my breath. Bernie Kosar climbs into my lap and rests his head on my thigh, his warmth becoming a source of comfort.

"They call him the Wizard of Oz, the most powerful wizard in, well, Oz. They say he can perform even the hardest of spells."

The notion of a 'wizard' performing 'spells' sounds even silly to me, but by the serious look on her face I can tell that this guy must be legit. "Where can I find him?"

"He lives in the Emerald City." She looks over at the horizon as if this Emerald City were to be sitting right there, but all I see are rolling green hills. "I would guide you, but it is my duty to watch over the river in case anyone else comes."

Bernie Kosar barks, and Sarah gives him a thoughtful glance. "I suppose my dog could guide you, he is very affluent in knowledge of Oz."

I pat BK's head. "I would very much appreciate that, Sarah." I sniffle once before grabbing Bernie Kosar in my arms. "Right now… that means a lot more to me than you know."

Sarah smiles at me warmly, but she looks sad. "I suppose you'll be leaving now." She says, and then adds in: "No one ever stays with me."

My stomach growls, it must have been a day or so since I… arrived here. And quite a while since I last ate. I know I should be getting on my way, but alternative universe Sarah already helped me a lot, and I'm about to walk away with what appears to be her only companion. "I suppose I could stay for the night… do you have anything to eat?"

Her face instantly brightens with an almost childlike glee. "Absolutely! There is a winkipple plant over the way, and a larigold patch not far from there. Do you have those on Lorien? They're very good." She asks, turning and motioning for me to follow her into the brush.

I hold onto BK as I get to my feet. "I'm sure they have something like that," I say, following her.

What in the world have I gotten myself into?

* * *

**_A/N: So you may have noticed already that this isn't really a classic retelling of the Wizard of Oz, and I guarantee you it's not going to get much more accurate than this. This is going to be 12 chapter fic more or less. Anyway, who do you think is going to be fulfilling each role?_**

**_Until next time ~Breelin_**


	2. Broken Man

**Broken Man: Hawthorne Heights**

**_pick up the pieces of myself, pull me back together now_**  
**_ I'm just a man who was meant to be broken_**  
**_ a life stone whose life is winding down_**  
**_ my time is running out_**

* * *

My sleep isn't that bad, truth be told. It's nothing like the big, luxurious beds at Nine's penthouse, but even a patch of warm grass is a step up from the musty cots at Santa Teresa in Spain. I've lived there most of my life; I've had a lifetime to develop low standards of living.

I wake up close to dawn (another useful Santa Teresa habit), and with nothing to pack or really any way to brush my teeth, I rub my eyes, stretch, and am ready to go. Go where, exactly? I'm not sure.

I watch Sarah's sleeping form as I follow Bernie Kosar into the brush. She looks beautiful even when she's asleep—not like I ever wondered why John adored her so much. I feel bad leaving her, but I don't think I could solve anything by just staying with her in Paradise. It would be nice to see her again; Sarah in real life is just as nice as Sarah in this world.

But I desperately hope I never do.

It doesn't take long before me and BK broke through the greenery into the open area I saw from inside Paradise. It literally looks like nothing from here to there, but Bernie Kosar walks with a purpose, so I must only assume he knows exactly where we're going.

The sun is sitting above our heads before I seriously begin to get doubts. My lips are dry and my legs feel weak from walking. I lived in Spain for a good portion of my lifetime and I've never felt heat like this. But if alternative universe Sarah would be so helpful, alternative universe Bernie Kosar would be too, right? Besides, I can't have any doubts now, it's way too late for that.

"How much farther do you think we have, BK?" I ask, wishing there was someone else around that I could actually talk to in order to keep myself preoccupied. Nine and John's ability to communicate with animals always looked kind of silly to me, but now I wish I had it too.

I really don't know what to think of this situation. I would like to blame this all on Setrakus Ra, but what kind of telepathy attack is this, exactly? Send me to the (hopefully) fictional land of Oz to what purpose? If he really wanted me out of the way right then and there couldn't he have just send some Mogs or something?

Even me passing out, that's never been a symptom of anyone else's. The only thing that is coming to mind is a very unhealthy mental break down. Which can't even be the case because I just had one back in Paradise.

Bernie Kosar barks and runs up the next hill, and I feel motivated to follow. Maybe he's sniffed out the Emerald City? My logical side tells me not to get too excited.

Reaching the top, my heart drops a little, as expected, as I see what's in the valley below: A giant wall. From my position atop the hill the wall already looks huge, stretching as far as the eye can see in both directions. If I could jump right across this valley, maybe about five hundred feet, I still wouldn't be high enough to get over it.

My mind jumps to floating up the side of that mountain when we were in India. With that thought comes an uncomfortable sensation in my stomach, so I continue walking in an attempt to cover it up. Luckily, physical exhaustion gives way to emotional exhaustion.

By the time we reached the wall—and let me tell you it took a while— the sun had passed to sit unwaveringly to my left in a mid-afternoon heat. The wall was a solid, concrete grey with not a touch of embellishment; in fact, it looked almost like it had recently been made. I notice how I'm standing on dry, compact earth, the grass not beginning until a few feet out. The surface feels cool, unaffected by the sun's heat.

Bernie Kosar transforms into a hawk and begins to fly upwards, leaving me along on the ground. He soars up and over, disappearing into the uncharted territory behind the wall.

With absolutely no clue as to what I could be meeting on the other side, I summon my telekinesis and begin my ascent. I'm so tired I'm unable to keep my feet balanced and I'm constantly having to stop on the way up; one foot shooting higher than the other as if I were trying (unsuccessfully) to balance my weight on unsecure parallel wires.

If the others would have been there, I probably would have felt embarrassed. Nine would have laughed, Six would have yelled encouragement because I needed it. John would probably stay on the bottom and make sure everyone else got to the top. Someone would need to carry Ella… I'm suddenly feeling incredibly lonely.

I've barely reached the top—a flat landing no more than ten feet across—before Bernie Kosar swoops down the other side, making slashing noises as his wings cut through the heavy gusts. The air feels thinner up here, and every breath I take feels gives me half of the satisfaction that it should. The wind is violent, ripping at my clothes and hair and making my eyes water. "Can't we take a break?" I yell over the gale.

All I can hear is the hawk's squall in return. He doesn't reappear, unfortunately, so I'm forced to follow. I peer my head over the side, squinting as I stare down at the scenery below. It wasn't a giant pit full of some dangerous animals, so that was good.

It turns out that the wall doesn't go all the way around. The stretch that I stood on only wrapped a quarter of the way around the bowl-shaped indent in the earth, meeting two perpendicular mountains at its sides. The wall continued right across from me, and beyond there I could see rows of corn and the continuation of the yellow brick road. It was a perfect circle all the way around, and in the middle sat a cute little village.

It was a stupid setup, architecturally, considering that anyone could get in to the village if they decided to climb up the mountains, which went much taller than the wall did. Why build the wall in the first place?

Unbeknownst to me just yet, there was a _very_ good reason.

As I carefully float down the other side, the things below me began to grow clearer. The buildings, strangely enough, were shaped like giant teacups and teapots, saucers and anything other dish you might find at some royal tea-type thing. Each cup-house was decorated with unique, colourful floral patterns that just happened to match the tiny flowers in each of their finely-pruned flower boxes. A little river found itself the diameter of the village, intersected multiple times by tiny yellow bridges. It was a strange sight, but also quite… serene. Like some kind of fairy tale come to life.

The inhabitants of the village began to fall into focus, although at first I had them confused with dolls. _Why would anyone set up so many dolls?_ I had thought. But they moved like tiny people, no, _tiny figurines,_ walking, skipping, running around. They were pale, but with beautiful, flawless white skin that glistened in the afternoon sunlight. Rosy cheeks, glossy black hair in cute little hairstyles. Pigtails, pixie cuts, you know what I mean. The girls, different from the boys by only the slimness of their faces and the slightly longer hair wear baby blue dresses in a shiny fabric, probably silk. The boys wear cute little overalls in the same fabric.

Packs of them chase each other around the buildings, others outside just strolling about; although it's impossible to tell which are adults and which are children, if these shiny-doll people even work that way. They all look the same, exact other than some nearly indistinguishable features that probably weren't visible unless they were up close. A chipped nose, a torn dress. A slight difference in their anatomy that's probably a result of an accident in the kiln.

My feet touch the ground, but none of them seem to notice. Bernie Kosar lands at my knees, transforming back into a dog. He snarls at the doll-people, but doesn't do much else. They just continue on their merry way, acting out the perfect backdrop to a perfect movie. A couple holding hands passes by me, and I could have sworn they just walked by here. _Had they gone in a circle?_

I let out a shushing noise, trying to calm BK, and suddenly the chatter stops. Hundreds of tiny heads turn in my direction, hundreds of shiny black orbs and pretty eyelashes. They stare at me, motionless. Their faces are set in blank stares as if they don't know how to react to my being there. I just stare back, probably as unsure of what to do as they are. Bernie Kosar begins to growl again.

From far behind the crowd, I spot movement in the corner of my eye. Someone is politely moving their way to the front of the crowd, but each 'excuse me' and 'thank you' sounds wrong, almost as if it didn't match the cute porcelain faces of these… people.

It sounds like a biplane is starting its' engines in Bernie Kosar's throat.

Finally the source of movement breaks out of the onlookers. He appears as just the same as the rest, the only difference being the lavender overalls compared to the blue. "Greetings," He says with that not-matching voice, bowing gracefully in my direction. "Welcome to Chinatown. My name is Ivanick, a leader amongst the china people."

I wave shyly, completely unsure of what to do. Did this kind of this happen often in Chinatown?

"You are ever most welcome here." Ivanick says enthusiastically. He goes on a long monologue about Chinatown, saying 'you are ever most welcome here' at least another five times. "We never have guests here," he gushes.

"And you brought a pest with you, how nice." For the first time his eyes have left me and moved to rest on Bernie Kosar. He leans over his shoulder to whisper something to the doll to his left.

"WHOA!" I nearly jump when I see the other dolls pull out a gun with a comically oversized barrel. I crouch down next to BK, extending a protective arm in front of him. The dog sounds like he's humming with rage. "Wait, Ivanick, you can't just do that! We're guests!" I yell desperately.

The china doll leader taps his chin with delicate fingers, making a clicking noise as porcelain hit porcelain. Suddenly, the china people weren't looking all that cute. In fact, they seemed to be inching in with every passing sec—

Without warning I head the blast of a gun going off, and with only seconds I do the one thing I can think to do: I protect myself and BK with my telekinesis. I feel my mind catch the bullet like a Kevlar vest, and as soon as I feel it's stopped I turn off my Legacies and let the bullet drop. I hear it shatter upon hitting the ground, and with a quick glance down I see that the bullet was made of a glossy ceramic.

The brief moment of stark silence that followed is pierced by a high pitched shriek: "She's a Number!"

I can't help but be slightly confused. Of course I was a 'number', it had been a part of my identity since the day I was born. Although Marina is what I go by now, Seven will always be my only name from Lorien. It wasn't a big deal anymore, ever since the charm had been broken that protected us individually. But for some reason I think the term number might mean more to them than it did to me.

Upon hearing this, the dolls did the most unexpected thing: they turn on the person closest to them and straight out attack. They started off punching and scratching, but quickly enough their hands, being too delicate, were broken. Most of them reverted to kick each other, others instead threw themselves at the nearest doll to them. It sounded like a bad day a Greek restaurant—pieces of fragile porcelain flew, followed by intense screaming. Dolls rolled around on the floor through piles of their own kind, wrestling the heads from one another's necks.

A loose doll leg wearing a ballet flat rolls up to me. The air is beginning to sound more like stepping on eggshells than smashing dishes.

I don't know what to do. Yell for them to stop? Would they even listen to me? Next to me, Bernie Kosar makes a pleased grunt. I want to yell at him too.

Something approaches my leg, and when I'm finally able to tear my eyes away from the total destruction before me, I see Ivanick's large back eyes staring back up at me. "So, you're a number, and you're all alone?" He muses, reaching out a pale hand and patting my leg as if to make sure I was really there.

"Ivanick!" I jump back, slightly repulsed by him touching me and majorly repulsed by his complete lack of concern. "Do something! They're killing each other!"

He ignores me. "What to do with you?" He says to no one in particular, as if I was a prized pig. "I suppose I should report you, but…" He looks up at me, flashing rows of shiny, needle-like teeth. "You look absolutely delicious."

I swallow, trying to dislodge the word stuck in my throat.

"But I suppose your pet will do," He says, moving past me towards Bernie Kosar. I don't even give him the chance; with one swift kick and a weird battle cry I didn't think I was capable of, Ivanick is sailing through the air, breaking into pieces upon impact with the cobblestoned ground.

He's motionless for a second, just another victim of the anarchy. Then like the persistent villain of a creepy horror movie, he springs back to life. Ivanick flips himself over, rolling from his stomach to his back. He uses his elbows to sit up in place.

Most of his face is gone. One whole eye, half his nose. His lip is chipped in a weird spot, revealing the mangled teeth underneath. His forehead is covered in hairline cracks and a good portion of the head is open on the top, like some sort of sick basket. I feel a little guilty.

The doll inclines his chin, eyes staring lifelessly forward, and cracks it down so hard his head rolls right off his little neck.

I gasp, but my throat runs dry as black wisps of smoke begin to pour out from the doll's neck. At first, it looks like only a hand, fingers curling and uncurling. On grows a pale white shoulder, then a bulky chest, followed by a thick neck and face housing a pair of endless black eyes. A Mogadorian. A huge, not-so-delicate looking Mogadorian.

_Of course._

Now I understand why they were breaking each other. Because behind those frail shells they kept their real selves. Behind those frail shells were an army of Mogs. Versus me. Alone.

Holy crap.

My mind reels. Bernie Kosar gets on all fours beside me. From the broken remains of the China dolls I see black smoke rising, limbs beginning to form. Ivanick smirks at me, long locks of dark hair falling into his eyes. I have seconds before I'm overrun with Mogs, and subsequently, killed. If only I could freeze time, give myself a moment to come up with a plan—

My new Legacy! It may be my only chance. For once since I met the other Garde, I didn't feel completely defenseless. I had an offensive Legacy now!

I immediately start to focus. I try to summon the feelings that I had before my ice Legacy first showed itself, the coolness that came from my hands. The feeling of ice permeating around me like a protective shield. I get myself into a fighting position, feet spread apart, knees bent, arms raised. …I've seen Six do it a million times.

I reached my hands outwards, waiting for something to happen. _Think, uh, cold thoughts_. How the hell do I think cold?! What does that even mean? My other legacies—seeing in the dark, breathing underwater and even healing—never required much effort on my part. At this point they were automatic for me, while Six and John and Nine still had to 'turn on' their legacies. No one ever taught me where my switch was.

I head the click of a Mog blaster, and I realize I just wasted all the time I had to possibly run. Why not run and then try and use my Legacy? I had never been the great strategist that Six is, but I knew better than this! I couldn't take on a whole Mog army by myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Stupid little girl," Ivanick crooned at me. "A Number such as yourself should know better than to come here. The Wicked One would want you alive, but to what degree was never specified." He smiled at me, letting that sink in. The village has grown silent, apart from my shallow breathing. Eventually I quiet my breathing, and there is no sound at all.

"What are you waiting for?" I ask quietly. I'm not usually the one with a plan, and now I have no idea what to do.

"Relishing the moment."

The quiet blanket that set over the village is pierced by a shrill scream. A hawk is plunging out of the sky, claws extended as it dives on the nearest Mogadorian solder. I'm aware that Bernie Kosar has left my side as the hawk begins to claw his eyes out, the rest of the army turns to look at this new threat, but more as if it's a strange door-to-door solicitor than someone being blatantly attacked. I take this as my chance to run.

"YOU FOOLS!" Ivanick screams, noticing me almost instantly. "You're letting her escape!"

In the confusion that follows I run to the nearest building, a cute teapot-shaped house. I couldn't eve fit through the door, being the height of my knee. If I somehow got through the door I would really only be able to stand inside, and this teapot looking like the luxury two-storey type.

The teapot explodes as an electric blast rips through it, blowing it to bits. I bolt from the building, covering my head with my hands to protect myself from porcelain shrapnel. A much louder roar cloaks my scream, and I know that Bernie Kosar has gone full-blown Chimaera mode.

Mog soldiers yell in confusion, some trying to battle BK while others take orders from Ivanick, demanding they find me. I run to the side of one building to the next, trying to use them as cover as I make my way across the village.

I head Mog blasters and guns go off in the background, the sound of shattering china. My feet crunch over the useless shells of the Mogadorians that litter the place. A building explodes to my left and I'm blown away by the force.

I fall, palms meeting stone as I skid across the road. I'm rolling uncontrollably, the next thing I know I'm face first in a bed of coolness. I'm disoriented for a second, then my head breaks the surface and I find myself in the river that I saw running the diameter of the village earlier.

I head a Mog blaster click from behind me. "Those were some smooth moves, Number." Ivanick says, probably the one or amongst the one holding the blaster to the back of my head. "But it wasn't good enough. Now get out of—"

"What is going on here!?" A female voice yelling over the pandemonium. But it's not the voice of a Mogadorian (whatever a female Mog sounds like) nor was it Sarah, it was—"Ella!" I yell out, a little surprised as I see the eleven-year-old float from the sky and land softly on her feet in front of me, but relieved all the same. Her hair is longer than I remember, falling loose and wavy down her back. She wears a floor-length gown of black silk, the torso and arms made of dark leather. It looked incredibly uncomfortable, with a matching tiara: silver with embedded black jewels.

"Ella, run! Get out of here!" I scream. I try to climb out of the river to get to her, but I feel the barrel of the cannon pushes back into my head.

Ella doesn't even give look at me, rather, glares right at the Mogs behind me. "What do you think you're doing?" She says sternly.

"Ella…" I choke out, but no one pays me any attention. In the background I hear Bernie Kosar roar again, followed by the sound of another shattering house.

"We're following the law, My Lady." Ivanick says, although not unkindly. He sounds almost… scared.

Ella throws her arms in the air, making her leather dress squeal. "So let's just shoot everybody that walks into Chinatown! They're all Numbers, so let's just destroy everything and chase after some poor scraggler!"

"We saw her powers." Ivanick growls.

Ella scowls at them, not a look accustomed to her face, although for a second I feel her eyes flicker to me. "Did you ever consider that it was a trick? An illusion? That the Numbers sent her in to pose as an imposter?"

Ivanick says nothing, Ella rolls her eyes. "Get her out of the river; let me speak with her since you _obviously _don't have the mental ability."

I can hear Ivanick grumble something unpleasant under his breath and he plucks me out of the fountain by my armpits and hurls me across the six-foot gap. I don't land so gracefully on the other side. Ella nudges the side of my head with the tip of her boot.

"Get up," She breathes to me. She turns her head to look at the Mogs across the river. "And you: Get out of here! Go deal with that Chimaera, or has your ability to recognise a threat deteriorated that much?"

I hear the sound of footsteps fade away into the sound of blasters. I feel a little dazed, and Ella helps me to my feet.

"We don't have much time!" She whispers to me urgently, peering over my shoulder at the battle ensuring. She shakes my shoulder. "Marina, are you listening to me?"

I nod. "Ella, how can you recognize me? I saw Sarah before and she didn't. And—"

She interrupts me. "I'm sorry, I wish I could answer all your questions, but I can't. Bernie Kosar needs help, and the only way you can help him is if you get out of here! You have to find the other Numbers, get to the Emerald City and find the—" An explosions rocks the ground beneath us. I stumble a bit and Ella helps to righten me. I try and twist from her grip to see what happened, but she turns me back to face her.

"Marina," She says, her voice impossibly more urgent. "This is all in your head, but you can get hurt here. You can die here, do you understand me? This is the only way I could contact you, and even now—" —Her form momentarily flickered—"There is not much I am allowed to tell you, nor am I the right person to."

My head is still spinning from my fall, and this is just the icing on the cake. I don't know how to process all this new information. "Ella, I don't understand anything." I feel tears welling up in my eyes. No, I can't cry. Not now, not again.

"I know," Ella presses a soft hand to my cheeks. "I know, but you just have to trust me. You are one of the strongest people I have ever met, Marina. You have the power inside you, stronger than anyone else." She smiles at me. "I know it. That's why I chose you, not Nine or Six. They will never be able to do what you do."

I give her a watery smile in return. There people go again, calling me strong. I can't even fight, don't they see that? I can't even go a day without crying. Six wouldn't cry, if she were in my place. "How are you controlling them?" I ask, more out of desperation than out of blatant curiosity. "How do I know I can trust…?"

"It's a… long story. And just an extra thing to have on your mind right now. This is important, not just for you, but for all of us. This—" There's another explosion, and Ella pushes my shoulder away, her previous thought forgotten. "You have to go!" She yells. "I'll help BK, just follow the yellow brick road and you'll find your way!"

"How do I—" But my question is answered as Ella pulls a wand from the sleeve of her dress and flicks it in my direction. I feel as if a pair of gentle, invisible hands have plucked me from the ground and begins to carry me off. Up, up, up until I can only faintly hear Ella yell: "Good luck!" Before I see her small form dash in the direction of the battle.

Once again, someone else is saving me. And I'm supposed to be the strong one?

* * *

I hit the ground in a run, like a landing plane. As soon as the momentum's warm off, I start to run again. Away from Chinatown, away from the explosions and sorrowful howls of Bernie Kosar as he takes a beating _for me_.

I have too many questions, so many things to think about that I don't know where to begin. So I just run until my legs ache, focusing on the path before me and placement of my feet. I run until I can't anymore, until the plumes of smoke are far behind me and all I can see of Chinatown is the giant wall that separates them from me.

Now I realize that the wall wasn't to keep things out, it was to keep the china dolls in.

I've slowed myself to a walk by the time I reached the cornfields, my adrenaline gone and exhaustion taking over my body. I'm tired and hungry. I glanced desperately at the corn, but there was absolutely nothing ripe enough to eat.

I reach out my hand and touch the corn anyway. It feels green and natural, and somehow reminds me of home. Of earth, that I'm not entirely cast into limbo, that there still might be some hope for me. My mind drifts to Ella and all she just said to me, but I shake the thoughts out of my head. No use confusing myself.

And that's when I see him. Pale skin, black clothes, dark hair that falls in his eyes as he walks. He wasn't close to the cornfield, not yet, but he was close enough. Another Mogadorian, not Ivanick, but similar. Maybe one that had followed me from Chinatown. Maybe one all alone. All I knew is that I had to get out of there.

I dash down the road, fresh adrenaline pumping energy into my swollen muscles once again. I ran for quite some time afterwards, but eventually I run out of steam again, this time feel a lot more… permanent. I hope that I had been able to put enough distance between us, but I had a feeling that it would never be enough for me.

I also have a feeling that I'm lost. Very, very lost. The ground had grown flat as I journeyed farther into the corn, and with that I lost my height-vantage point. In every direction all I could see were rows and rows of premature corn, my only guide being the yellow brick road under my feet. Yet, I couldn't help feeling a little uneasy about it, thus far nothing about 'the land of Oz' had been at all straightforward.

"Well, lookey-look what we have here."

Voices. A male's voice, one I didn't recognise, but it wasn't a Mog and that was good enough for me. I'm walking, continuing down the path until I can really pick out what they're saying:

"Still hiding in the corn fields, Underdweller?" The male voice snickers again, followed by two other horking laughs.

I nearly gasp when I head John's voice pipe up, having to clamp a hand over my mouth. "I don't hide in them, Mark, I guard them from harm. It's kind of what I do." He sounds confident, on the verge of sarcastic, and it makes 'Mark' mad.

"But if you're protecting them," He snarls, "then who's protecting you, Underdweller?"

Surprisingly, John says nothing.

"That's what I thought." Mark laughs, followed by the mortifying sound of flesh hitting flesh. John audibly groans.

I know I've heard enough.

"Stop it!" I yell, rounding the corner and revealing myself to them. I know what I was expecting to see… and this was not what I was expecting.

* * *

**A/N: And that's chapter 2! I'm sure you guys have as many questions as Marina does. Don't worry, we'll get there soon. For those of you who don't know, Ivanick is a character in one of the novellas, Search for Sam I'm pretty sure. He's basically just an enemy Mog, Adam's adoptive brother and long backstory short his rival. I haven't read any of the novellas but I have plans for some novella characters so sorry in advance if you don't think I 'captured' the characters correctly. Also, I know what you're thinking about Mark bullying John... but I think it'll become more clear when Marina finally gets some answers!**

**Stay tuned for the next chapter, where a certain special someone will be making his debut reappearance! **

**Until next time~ Breelin**


	3. Cure for the Enemy

**Cure for the Enemy: Billy Talent**

_**In darkness we'll rest**_  
_**Count the days down to one last breath**_  
_**In darkness we'll rest**_  
_**So forgive what you can't forget**_

* * *

It's definitely John standing there, and I breathe a sigh a relief. He looks unharmed, although his hair is mildly more tousled than usual and his clothes look oversized and ratty. Holding him on either wrist is a midget, and the one I supposed was Mark stood in front of the three.

For some reason, Mark sounded a lot more menacing than he actually was. His hair was blue and combed back neatly, the locks almost but not quite covering a pair of barbed ears. He was short; probably no taller than my waist, his brightly coloured yellow shirt and orange blazer hanging off of him as if his parents were buying big sizes in order to save money when he hit his growth spurt.

Four heads crack in my direction, and despite my height I'm feeling small and alone. I want to say something, something brave to get those little… _muchkins_ to leave John alone. But I stutter on my words and Mark ends up speaking over me.

"Check it out, boys." He turns to the two muchkins at John's wrist. "An Underdweller standing up for her fellow Underdweller." He sneers at me waving a hand in my direction, "Get out of here, this has nothing to do with you."

I'm expecting John to protest, take the moment of distraction to burst into action or at least free his wrists from a couple of boys that can't weigh more than fifty pounds a head. But he doesn't do a thing, in fact, he just nods his head at me in agreement.

My face burns. "Why don't you defend yourself?" I ask him, anger edging in my voice.

His expression doesn't change from blank, and he doesn't say anything. The munchkins laugh at me, and Mark takes the opportunity to punch John in the gut. It's not very hard, there couldn't possibly be that much power in such a little fist, but John doubles over as if the punch were a step away from a bullet would. Why is he doing this?

"This Underdweller doesn't want your help!" Mark yells at me. "He'd rather get beat."

I finally allow my mind to wander back to what had happened in Chinatown. They had called me a Number, gone to their greatest defense to contain me as soon as I showed signs of power. I was a threat. And if I am a Number without even really knowing what that means, I bet John is too. They just don't know it. "But he's not an Underdweller." I immediately don't feel comfortable using that word. I have no idea what it means, but I have a feeling it's meant to be derogatory.

"Then what is he? A china monster?" One of them snickers.

"He's a Number." I say, putting my hands on my hips. John hangs his head. The three munchkins burst out laughing.

"Yea, right!" Mark laughs. "You're telling me that one of the most dangerous people in all of Oz is a _corn-watcher_?" He grabs John by the scruff of his shirt and throws him down on the road. John grunts, but still says nothing. "Come on, Number, show us your powers!"

While they're distracted I stretch out my hands, letting my sticky palms breath for the first time in a while. There are red marks where my nails were digging into my skin, although I can barely feel it over the hot pumping of blood that raced to my fingertips. I stretch out my arm, and with my telekinesis I pick up Mark.

It's quite obvious that Mark has never experienced anything like it, because he starts to flail as soon as his feet leave the ground. "What witchcraft is this?" He screams, but a second later his face pales and he raises a shaky finger. "She's a… a…"

"A Number." John sighs, suddenly attaining his ability to speak.

"She's a…" Mark is speechless, his two cronies backing away slowly without the consent of their leader.

"You'd better run, Mark, otherwise things are going to get messy." I say in the most menacing tone I can. It's not much, but it's good enough to scare a guy who's already half out of his mind with fear.

"Take the Underdweller! Take the Underdweller!" Mark wails, running in midair as I hold him in place with my Legacies. "My father is a High Patrolman; they'll come after you if you kill me!" I finally decide to let him go and he bolts like a horse from a race gate.

Even though the trio are quickly disappeared down the road, their voices bounced around the corn field for quite a while after. "Numbers!" They yelled. "There's a wild Number in Oz!" Something told me they weren't spreading this like it was a joyous message.

John's back is to me, watching the trio flee down the road. He looks over his shoulder at me. "So, you're a Number."

"Wait… you're not one?"

"No, I am." His eyes are downcast. "I've just never met another one. I thought for so long that I was the only one left."

I'm about to ask what he means when he cuts me off. "I'm Number Four, but I go by John." He sticks his hand towards me and I take it.

"I go by Marina." It feels so strange to be shaking John's hand again, like we've never met. Well, technically, we have never met. But at the same time, I feel like I'm lying to him by faking ignorance.

John glances behind his shoulder in the direction Mark and the others had ran. "You know, he wasn't kidding when he said his father was a High Patrolman. They'll be back to kill us in less than an hour." He motions towards the path ahead. "Shall we?"

We begin to walk, side by side. He says nothing, but I have a million questions brimming at my lips. "Why would they want to kill us?" Is the first one that bubbles up.

He shrugs, gazing ahead of us. "Kill what you can't control. And you know, the Wicked Witch lives around here. If she catches word we're here, her followers will be on us in minutes. They don't want to be around here for that."

"The Wicked One," I breathe, thinking of what Ivanick had said back in Chinatown. So there was someone out to get us just like on earth; not something I wasn't used to.

He nods. "That's what they call her."

* * *

Here's an interesting fact: I was having a better conversation with illusion-John than I had ever had with John in real life. With the real John Smith (and by that I meant the one who lived on Earth) we didn't talk much. We _did_ talk, but most of the time it was about something strategic or me giving him older-sister advice even though he'd had more experience in just about everything than me.

But this John didn't have a girlfriend—plus whatever went on with Six—to deal with. He didn't have the brotherly relationship with Sam or the best friend relationship with Nine that basically left me and Eight alone and probably pushed us together even more. It was just me and him, and we actually talked. Mind you, it wasn't about stuff that actually existed, but he was serious about it and that was talking enough.

He explained to me what an Underdweller was; it wasn't as bad as I thought. It was a term used by the people in the countryside of Oz to describe the people from the city, because the Emerald City sat in a valley.

"Well, how did they know you were from the city?" I asked, still not sure what he meant.

"Because I'm not dressed like a Quadling." He says as if it were so obvious.

I decided to just leave that type of language for them to use.

And it turned out that John didn't know much more than I did about our statuses: That there was a Wicked Witch out for our blood (The Wicked Witch of Dulce, he called her), that being a Number deemed us dangerous and scary to all inhabitants across Oz be it Munchkin or Chinadoll, and that the reasons being were completely unknown. John had grown up alone, always hiding and running but never knowing why. The cornfield had just been the latest of many, where he'd posed as a corn watcher and had the opportunity to practise his powers as they began to develop.

By the time we'd left the cornfield and ventured into what John called the 'Friendly Forest' I realized I had been dancing around the fact that I had come out of the river. My comparisons to all of his stories had been very vague, but I was scared that if he knew I wasn't really a 'Number' he would abandon me. Real life John wouldn't, but this guy wasn't real life John.

"But what would you wish for?" He asked me as I told him about my plans to go to Oz and see the wizard.

"I, uh…" I decided it had better be now or never. "I want him to help me get back home. I'm not really… from Oz, John."

"The Paradise River, right?" He gives me a knowing smile.

I do a double take, confusion transforming into relief. "How did you…?"

_"'Twas the place the lost go, The River, the indefinite home, the Paradise River resides the unknown._" He recites it like something he's heard many times. "I know the story, Marina. The people who feel like they don't belong, they jump in the river in hopes that they'll find a new home wherever it takes them."

"No, I'm actually _from another place,_ the River brought me here." He gives me a quizzical look and I desperately decide to elaborate. "The Witch of Paradise told me so!"

"You mean the Wicked Witch of Paradise?" John says bitterly. "She's always trying to mess with people's heads."

"The Wicked Witch?" I couldn't believe that Sarah was evil. Sarah would never—she gave me food, water, gave me Bernie Kosar to help me find the wizard! Why would she lie to me?

"As wicked as they come."

"I don't believe—" I began, but my sentence was drowned out by an ear-shattering roar. The forest around us seemed to suddenly grow darker, birds and animals fled from their various hiding places in the trees, skirting around us as they ran in the opposite direction we were headed. A cheetah—god knows why there's a cheetah living in a deciduous forest—zig zags in front of us, nearly crashing into John as it scrambled away. What could something so powerful be so afraid of?

From off in the distance I can hear the sound of branches being snapped carelessly as something made its way along. It lets out another screaming roar; John grabs my arm.

"A piken," He whispers, pulling me off the path and into the woods.

"They run wild here?"

But he never answered my question, instead pressing a finger to his lips to signal me to be quiet. We stop weaving through the forest after a while to hide behind a random tree, John putting me behind him as he holds the tree from both sides.

"We should be okay here," He pants, sounding like he just recently allowed himself to breathe again. A bead of sweat ran down his brow. He was getting nervous.

The tree John had been holding bursts into flames. I shriek in surprise, jumping back as the tree turns into a bright inferno. John pulls his hands away, flames still dancing on his palms, a look of horror on his face as he realized what he just did.

The piken roars again, its footsteps getting closer as it is undoubtedly attracted by the fire.

No one even has to say it; me and John turn and run. I couldn't fight a piken, John probably couldn't do it alone, and we were in its home court. We dart between trees, aimlessly moving forward while trying not to trip over the gnarled tree roots that patched the forest floor together like a quilt.

But we couldn't run forever, this thing will unquestionably catch us. Then, out of the corner of my eye I spot it: a bungalow-style cottage, made of a simple brown wood that camouflaged the building in the woods so well it was barely noticeable. Barely.

"John! Inside!" I point in the direction of the cottage, my legs following my finger. I can hear John catch on behind me. We race for the cottage but I eventually get there first; thanking my lucky stars that the door was unlocked as I yank it open and John barrels inside, me right behind him.

I slam the door shut. John is breathing heavily, hands on knees as he tries to regain control of his pulse. I'm down there with him, but I dart my head nervously from side to side, making sure there was no terrified cottager whose house we had just broken in to.

The cottage is just as small on the inside as it appeared on the outside, made even smaller by the excess of furs and skins on the walls, floor and just about every flat surface. All of the furniture was made of woods of difference colours, pieces together randomly. There were difference coloured wooden knobs on the dresser, a small bed with a pelt for a blanket and a stove-like contraption in the far corner. The table marking the midpoint of the room was laid with knives and blades of difference shapes and sizes, which had me wondering who exactly lived here… and how wise it was to be trespassing. But at least we were alone at the moment.

A…Piken." He says again, pausing for breath. "I thought they were extinct."

I seat myself on the tiny bed in the corner of the room, knotting my hands in the furry blanket. "You've never seen one before?"

"They were hunted down, dangerous animals. How could there still be one left? They're not exactly subtle creatures." He shrugs, straightening himself. He turns his head, taking in the appearance of the cottage. "And I never knew of anyone who would be living in the Friendly Forest. He must be an outcast, or…" He looks at me, clearly excited. "Maybe another Number!"

As if on cue, I hear someone outside fumbling with the doorknob. I jump behind the bed, still a little scared that we've broken into a maniac's home rather than another Garde. Then again, the blades do seem Nine's style, although I never pictured him as a woodland cabin kind of guy.

John sees what I'm doing and leaps over the bed to join me just in time for the door to fly open.

I have to control my urge to scream.

I clap a hand over my mouth as a boy with shiny silver skin walks in through the door, an axe made of metal—from hilt to tip—thrown over his shoulder. Over his other shoulder is a padded canvas bag with I-don't-want-to-know what inside. He's mumbling to himself, and as he sets his axe down on the table and his skin reverts to normal am I better able to see his face: Five.

John squeezes my hand, excited. He doesn't know of course, that Five… I feel my emotions washing over me like hot flashes: anger, grief, remorse; before my internal slot machine stops on triple rages. I decide to collect my pay out.

Before I can even reconsider, I climb to my feet and reveal myself. "Five!" I screech, reaching out a hand and catching the traitor with my telekinesis before he can even react. I step on top of the bed and back to the floor, raising Five as he kicks the air, arms floundering.

"Stop!" He yells, surprise and fear written across his pudgy face. "I'm one of you, I'm one of you! You saw my powers!" He chokes out.

"Marina, what are you doing?" John touches my shoulder, his voice urgent. "He didn't do anything!"

"Just put me down!" Five pleads. "I'm on your side!"Him saying that makes me even angrier. I let him fall, punching him in the face as he falls towards the ground just the way Nine taught me, with my thumb out. I mean to put as much power in it as I can, and the traitor goes flying across the room, hitting the wall on the other side. His head lulls to the side as he sinks to the ground, clearly unconscious.

"What the hell!" John yells, throwing his hands in the air. "Why did you do that?!"

"He's a traitor." I say quietly, the anger evaporating as quickly as it pooled. Why was I being so emotional? "He tried to kill…" But I don't know how to end that sentence. What proof would I have to make John believe that I wasn't just crazy? Suddenly jumping out at Five seemed like a terrible idea.

We just kind of stood there, frozen, as I tried to decide what to say. That was, until we find out that we were not alone in the cottage. Again.

"Damn, I hope you didn't kill him." I instantly recognize Nine's voice. I look around, frantic to spot him, but the cottage is empty apart from John, Five and myself.

"Because I kind of wanted to do that." Nine continues, and this time I follow the sound of his voice upwards. He's sitting on one of the support beams that make up the ceiling, and I feel stupid for not checking there as soon as we entered the cottage.

Nine gracefully drops to the ground, doing a little bow when he lands. He looks like some kind of lumberjack wearing a red flannel shirt and worn jeans. In his right hand I can see the short stick that I know expands into his weapon of choice. It's funny, I thought that had gotten destroyed.

I glance back at Five, noticing that he has two intact eyes. How could all of this possibly be from my mind if this place isn't even up-to-date?

My attention is snapped back to Nine as I hear what he's saying. "And you're this new Number everyone's been talking about? You don't look like much." Usually when someone is talking about something important, the role of ambassador always went to John. He was the leader, not one ever spoke to me. But _Nine was speaking to me._

"Everyone's been talking about?" I echo, a bit confused.

"Sure, you're like some sort of Underdwell celebrity. First person to ever come _from_ the Paradise River, then she nearly destroys that China doll fortress in the same day. Not to mention escaping the cold grasp of the Wicked Witch of Paradise." Nine licks his lips, grinning. "I thought maybe you were on some kind of rampage, but now I think you guys are just lost." He snickers.

"And to answer your question, John," Nine jabs a finger at John. "He tried to kill _me_. At least half a dozen times, and I can guarantee you that he probably had a hand at a few more of us. You're lucky she has so much sense, I was this close—" He pinches his fingers together, "—to jumping in and killing him, and I can't promise you wouldn't have been a casualty."

John glances at me rather apologetically and I give him a reassuring smile. He shouldn't be the one apologizing; really, if it weren't for Nine coming to my defense he had every right to doubt me. I keep forgetting that we barely know each other.

Nine has gotten himself busy prodding Five with his now fully extended staff. "You knocked him out pretty good," He comments.

"Who are you, anyway?" John asks, watching Nine curiously as the brunette pulls a copper wire from his belt and begins to tie Five's wrists together.

"Nine."

John blinks. "But what do you go by? You're real name?"

"I go by Nine."

"But… people are afraid of us. The witch…" John argues, crossing his arms.

Nine puts the finishing touches on his knot, stands back to admire his work. "I don't know about you, but being a Number is all I have. This one—" He points at Five, "—argues that numbers for names are cruel, but… this is who I am now. This is my identity, not whatever I can make up and now whoever we used to be." He raises his staff. "And screw the witch, I've been trying to lure her after me for years. I mean, have either of you ever actually seen her?"

I shake my head, although I know I'm not one much to speak. John mirrors my actions. But it was obviously a rhetorical question, because Nine was no longer paying us any attention. He heads over to Five's bed and pulls a wooden chest from underneath, opening it and digging a hand inside.

"Use his own traps against him," He mutters.

I can see John edging towards the door, obviously made uncomfortable by Nine. I remember John once telling me about how badly he thought of Nine when they first met, and how his opinion completely transformed later on. I was guess we were still in the first met phase.

Before I can say anything to Nine John pulls me by the hand out the door, closing it behind us quietly. "Well that guy was…weird." He says as soon as he feels we're out of earshot.

"I hope you mean that in an endearing way, Johnny boy." Nine's suddenly leaning on John's shoulder, his lips an inch away from John's ear. "Because I've been told I can deliver one hell of a loogie."

"How do you know my name?" John grumbles, shrugging Nine off his shoulder.

"Enhanced hearing." He taps his ear. "I heard you guys coming from a mile away. And I also heard there was a Piken around. I thought they were extinct too, Johnny boy." He claps John on the back rather hard.

The blonde grits his teeth. "We don't need help dealing with a Piken."

"Yea, we do." I say.

"See, the lady agrees with me." Nine winks at me. "And considering you get into a ton of trouble by accident, I would love to see what kind of trouble you would get in on purpose. Mind if I join your quest?"

"She doesn't need you, she's got me." John pipes in before I have a chance to speak.

"I don't recall you saying you were going to accompany her."

"Well, now I am." He retorts, looping an arm in mine.

"We could always go together…" I say shyly, doing all I can to conceal my excitement. First John, now Nine. Maybe finding everyone else wouldn't be as hard as I had initially thought.

"Sounds good to me," Nine laughs, looping my other arm.

John mutters something unpleasant.

* * *

We walked for about five minutes before we accidentally found the piken again. It was waiting by the now burnt-out tree, a maniacal glow in its eyes as it saw its prey coming right back to where it last saw us. For a countless time that day I berated myself for being so dumb.

Nine immediately wanted to fight the thing—John wanted to run. We ended up doing a bit of both: Nine ran up and down, slashing the thing with his staff as he used his anti-gravity to get at the thing's eyes, face, neck. I can see John and Nine beginning to form a bond and John runs alongside, hurling fireballs at the piken while Nine was out of the way. _They work well together_, I thought.

And while the two heroic boys battled the Piken, I trailed after the fight as we ran after it. I flung a few rocks at it, but what else could I do? Any attempt to try and use my new Legacy seemed fruitless when the two of them were dealing with the beast perfectly.

I was starting to get a third wheel vibe.

The piken was bloody, it's calloused skin pulsating with the extra effort of facing such admirable foes, but it was nowhere near dead. I used my telekinesis to toss a rock about the size of a small car at its head. It bounced off harmlessly, but it turned to growl at me anyways.

While it was distracted John jumped at one of its knees, forcing its leg to buckle and for the animals to fall to the side. The ground shook and I wobbled, but Nine didn't falter as he leaped in the air and plunged his staff into one of the piken's eyes.

The beast roared, fresh rage radiating off it as it bucked Nine off its head and kicked John away. It lumbered to its feet, seeming disoriented. With a final howl it turned and ran in the opposite direction we had come.

John and Nine high fived, grinning at each other. They watch the beast run, Nine cat-calling after it; but the piken doesn't turn back. Of course we had put up a good fight, I've just never experienced a piken that didn't, well, fight to the death.

My question is answered when a giant ball of a gooey, translucent liquid lands on my shoulder.

I look up to see where it came from, my moan of disgust trapped in my throat as a girl's head looks down at me, her face a mess of thousands of whiteless red eyes. Instead of a mouth she has a pair of snapping pincers. Instead of a body…

I scream, falling onto my back.

"Marina!" John yells as the two boys spin around. Nine, however, is the first one to take action, using his super speed to grab me in his arms and bring me a safe distance away from the monster. By the time he sets me down, I can really see what I'm looking at.

The head has straight black hair which would have gone past her shoulders had she had any. Instead there was a rotund torso, and eight hairy black legs. She was tall, her human face looking down at us from a height that I probably could have walked under without having to crouch. A thousand eyes spun to look at us, at least a few hundred settling on me.

The giant spider began to make hissing noises at us. No, not hissing, it was speaking.

"_Numbers_," She hissed between her pincers "_Such fools to come to me_." The pincers spread apart, revealing a human mouth and two rows of pointy teeth behind it. "_I will enjoy the taste of their blood._"

For having such a large size, the spider was _quick_. She bolted at us without warning her nippers extending further as she prepares to sink her teeth into one of us. John and I leap to the sides, but Nine remains frozen in place.

_What was wrong with him_? I don't have time to consider what as I use my telekinesis to throw him to the ground just in time for the spider to walk right over him. She's rears, confused as to why there isn't a person in her sharp teeth.

I take the opportunity to run over to Nine, ducking under the spider's bulk and trying to help Nine to his feet. He doesn't budge, although he's beginning to look a little green. "Get up!" I scream at him, but he doesn't seem to be aware of me. He was conscious, just _not conscious_.

It's only thanks to my enhanced strength that I'm able to throw him over my shoulder. Nine could face anything, Nine was always completely fearless, and now a stupid giant spider has rendered him immobile? It didn't add up.

I was only able to walk a few steps before I'm slammed onto my stomach, strands of sticky white stuff plastering me and Nine to the floor. Ew, spider's silk.

A fireball flies over my head, followed by John who leaps over us like a gazelle would a fallen comrade. The spider roars in the background.

"Nine!" I scream again, struggling against the tight bonds of the silk. "Do something! He me get rid of this stuff!"

But he doesn't move, and his chest is pressing down on the shoulder that had recently been carrying him. His hand is glued to my back, but I can see his other is free, stretching out just beyond where the silk held us.

"Nine!" I turn my head to face his, and I nearly lost all of my drive to escape. _Nine was crying._ Silent tears, nothing like the pitiful tears I had shed on Sarah's shoulder the previous day. His eyes were closed, the tears leaking from his eyes and falling, untreated, down his face.

I cried, John could cry, Six probably would if she ever felt the need. Ella was only a child who could cry without consequence. Sam and Sarah, I'm sure, cried plenty of times in their lifetime. Even Eight… my stomach clenched.

But Nine, Nine didn't cry. He didn't, he was tough… he…

"Marina, Nine, I could use a little help!" John yells.

I didn't know what to do. Once again, I was stuck and unable to help anyone. Not even Nine, who seemed to be having an unwarranted emotional breakdown of his own.

I was suddenly aware of how cold it had become. The cocoon that held us in place was freezing, pressed against my skin. No… I was the cold one! I try to focus my energy in that feeling, but soon enough I feel the icy feeling of my skin fading away. No, not again!

I kick at the webbing, and it turns out to be frozen enough to break apart. I shrug the silk away and slip out from underneath Nine.

"Nine!" I shake his shoulder, although it feels futile. "Nine, please, whatever it is you know I'm here for you, but right now we have to fight!"

No response.

"Fine!" I slap his shoulder unnecessarily, climbing from my knees to my feet so I can help John.

I search around myself hysterically, desperate to set my eyes on them. My night-vision activates automatically, searching the shadows. I finally spot the pair in the dark recedes of a tree, the spider holding an unconscious John by the calf in her pincers, blood drips from John's leg where she held him. She scuttles around in the large branches of the tree, forming a giant web. I feel nauseous.

One of her multiple eyes see me, and she drops John in her silk net. "_One still left alive_," She slurs. "_the female always has the juiciest flesh_." Now I really feel sick.

I have no real way to fight, I can't just throw rocks at her. She has all the cards! But not unless…

She jumps down from the treetops, her bulk shaking the ground. I teeter a bit, but I stay upright. We're at a silent standoff for just a moment when she runs at me, nippers extended for the kill.

But she's too tall and I run underneath her, reaching upwards to knit my hands into her black, hairy underside. I shiver but I don't let go, bringing my feet up and planting them on her belly.

"_She touches me! She touches me!_" The spider bellowed, trying to extend her non-existent neck under her so she can grab me with her pincers.

When that doesn't seem to be an option she rears back, lifting one of her barbed legs to her abdomen and plunging it right at me. I let go of her hair and hit the ground instead, and the spider stabs herself with one of her own weapons.

She screams a human scream, wobbling a bit as black blood begins to leak from beneath her. "_I will kill her_!"

But now, with one successful hit, I feel a renewed sense of confidence. Even more, I have another idea.

I jump as high as I can, using my telekinesis as a booster to propel myself in the air and on top of the spider. She screams in rage and kicks, trying to send me flying off, but I dig my fingers into her shaggy back. I sit forward, the soles of my feet facing the back of her head. I kick her once; a good kick that made something crunch.

I gasp when he head spins around, eyes and nippers doing a 180 to face me. I kick at her again, my heel making contact with her eyes. She turns her head away for a second, but it snaps right back. She has more than two eyes, I could kick her a million times and she'll still be able to see me!

She snaps her pincers at me, obviously happy to see me struggling. That was, until the end of Nine's staff explodes out of her abdomen, thick black liquid splatters all over us. The spider's eyes go wide, watching her own guts bubble out of a hole that went straight through her, the grin fading from her human mouth.

I bring a hand up to shield my face as the black sludge pops at us, and I lose my balance and tumble over the side of the spider's enormous torso as she staggers and finally, falls onto her side with a thud. I scramble away on my hands and knees, slipping around in the blackness that was now leaking from three different wounds on the spider's body.

"How does that feel, huh?" Nine yells at the now motionless carcass of the giant spider, the staff in his hand covered in her blood. "Right through the heart, bitch!"

He continues to go on and on, and I lift my head to the treetops, looking for John. In the darkness I can see him still stuck in the web—but it's quickly starting to flake away, pieces of the web's silk fading into nothingness.

Enough of the web is gone and John falls. I run over to try and catch him, but I end up opting for my telekinesis to catch his fall and safely set him on the ground. By the time I've reached him, he's already stirring.

"What happened?" He whispers, cracking one eye open at me. The wound on his leg is already fading. "Did you kill it?"

I laugh, almost amazed that I actually made it happen. That I actually kind of… helped. "Sort of. How are you feeling?"

"Fresh as the dickens," John grumbles, already sitting up. I notice the black sludge that had peppered my arms and gloved my hands had faded too, almost all of it gone. "I guess when the spider died, everything else goes with her." I think out loud, and I think John can partially understand.

He glances over my shoulder. "Well, almost everything." I follow his gaze.

Nine is sitting on the ground, a now fully human girl with that same black hair lying in his lap. I know she's dead, but I don't say anything to John, and I guess he's thinking the same thing because he doesn't say anything to me.

We just wait and watch as Nine strokes the girl's hair and cries quietly to himself.

* * *

Eventually Nine dropped the girl, not giving much care as her body hit the ground. He got to his feet and walked over to us. Any sign that he had been crying, or even a little emotionally disturbed couldn't be seen on his face.

"We're in the forest of nightmares." He says matter-of-factly.

"The what?"

"That's why the piken ran away!" John snapped his fingers. "_'Twas the woods of fear and blood does with wise man flee, the nightmare beasts come forth at night and take thy sanity_."

"How many of these little nursery rhymes do you know?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

He crosses his arms. "They're not nursery rhymes! It's a poem about all the dangerous stuff in Oz." He begins to list them on his fingers. "The Witch's castle, the Paradise River, The Nightmare Forest, the Beyond—"

"Yea, yea, dangerous poetry, we get it." Nine waves his hand in John's face, cutting him off. "The point is," he swallows. "I had a very unpleasant experience back there, and you two are going to have to go through the same thing unless we leave."

"So let's leave." I say.

"Good." Nine nods his head and begins to march in a random direction.

"I believe that's the opposite of the way we came!" John yells after him.

"It's called the Nightmare forest not the Straightforward Forest, everything is backward here!" Nine yells over his shoulder. "Just trust me!"

I shrug at John. "What have we got to lose?"

"Our sanity." John mumbles as we follow after him.

* * *

It was less than a minute in that I found out how terrifying the Nightmare Forest could be. It started off when I saw my cepan wandering by herself.

"Adelina!" I scream, running towards and wrapping my arms around her. She looked down at me, dazed.

"You killed me," she whispered in my ear. I looked up, started by her harshness, but I all I could see were the thick trees above and suddenly my arms were holding air.

My hands shook for quite a while after that.

A little later John yelled out, pointing to a person who was clearly a Mogadorian grasping a dark-skinned boy by the throat on a high tree branch. The Mog dangled him over the gap as the boy clawed at the hands containing his neck.

Almost impossibly, the boy turns his head down at us and frowns. "Why aren't you helping me?" He screams right before the Mog plunges a sword in his chest and they both explode into dust.

Then there was an old man who had hobbled by, black hair streaked with grey. He was hunched over as he walked, in desperate need of a cane but there didn't seem to be any available. He coughed once before walking up to us.

"Why didn't you help my boy?" He rasped. "You were supposed to help each other, but you hurt him. Liren would not be proud, John." The old man wheezed before he quickly shriveled up and fell to the ground.

We were all shaking pretty well after that.

The part that bothered me the most was that all of these people were dead. Dead, and obviously didn't die at peace.

"Marina?" I turn at hearing a familiar voice, although I suppose all the voices I hear should be familiar. Behind us stood Crayton wearing a pressed black suit, his hands folded behind his back.

"H-Hello." I stutter, not sure what else to say. John and Nine give each other confused glances, obviously confused having never met Crayton.

"What's the matter?" He asks me, reaching out a hand but retracting it as he sees me flinch. "Did I do something wrong?"

I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything at all, instead I look down at my shoes.

"Marina, you are so brave, for coming here." He says kindly. I'm waiting for the truth to come out. "Ella told me all of the fantastic details of your times in Santa Teresa, and let me say, you are a brave girl."

I still don't meet his eyes. Instead he reaches out a hand and brings my face up to look at his. "Chin up, Marina. Don't let such silly fears rule your life. The regrets you should carry should only come from your own actions, not the actions of others."

He smiles at me before turning and walking away. "Be strong, Marina! You have it in you!" He laughs as he fades away into the darkness.

After a moment of silence I hear Nine scratch his head. "That was… unusual. That nightmare was uncharacteristically positive."

"It wasn't a nightmare," I breathe, my legs taking a second too long to follow the whirring in my mind. "It was a good dream! This way!" I start to run, following in the footsteps that Crayton would have left had he been real.

The boys have no choice but to follow as I disappear into the forest. We had stuck to the areas where we could at least walk, but the farther I went the thicker the branches got and we were forced to swat them away. It became so thick that I had to walk forward with my shoulder bearing the brush. And then we fell into a clearing.

It wasn't a big clearing, or that nice of one. It was still dark enough that my night-vision legacy didn't shut off completely, but it had at least gone from dark to dim. The trees surrounding us seemed a little less hostile, the floor clear of the twisted roots that had attempted to trip us so many times. I felt safe suddenly, my fears from the Nightmare forest fading away.

"Well, that brought us absolutely nowhere. I was at least expecting some kind of magical elf or something that would beam us out of this forest." Nine drones.

I feel a little put out, but I don't agree with him. There was a reason Crayton led me here, I know it.

"There are elves in Oz?" I ask apathetically, not taking my eyes off the treeline as I inspect the clearing. There may or may not be a magical elf, but there was something in that form. I just had to find it.

"Of course not, that would be stupid." Nine retorts.

John nudges my shoulder. "Guys… how about a magical lion?"

"A magical lion? That's doesn't sound much better than a magical elf, dude."

"No, I mean, there's a lion!" John yells, spinning Nine around and pointing to the other side of the clearing. I turn with them, my throat feeling like it's closing up as I see the massive golden beast approaching us slowly. But not out of fear, no.

He looks right at me as it advances on us. It tilts his fuzzy brown head to the side, almost as if he was trying to understand what I was just as much as my mind desperately wanted to know what he was. This forest was full of dead people, so why couldn't it be…? I scold myself for even hoping, but I find myself drawn forward anyways.

I hear Nine's staff click out and extend. John's hands light up with the ease of a bic lighter. "Shall you take it, Johnny boy, or shall I?" Nine asks.

"Neither of you guys," I say, and their heads snap back to give me identical confused looks.

"You want to take it?"

I shrug past them, putting myself in the front. "Just let me deal with this. I just need to know…"

The lion keeps up his even pace, showing no signs of well, anything. I can feel John and Nine inch back behind me. "Marina…"

After what feels like an agonizingly long time the lion stops, less than a yard between us. He could easily jump at me now and tear me apart, but he does nothing. I reach out a hand slowly, deliberately, inviting him to come closer.

One of the lion's paws scratches the ground, hesitant to move. I take a step forward and he doesn't recoil. And slowly, slowly, I bring my hand down and touch his scruffy fur. I have to remind myself to breath.

"Hi…" I whisper, not moving my hand. "How are you?" I don't know what else to say.

Nine chortles from behind me.

Thankfully Nine goes ignored, and the lion shakes his head back and forth, letting my fingers run through his fur. I take the hint and start to pet him, curling my fingers around his soft fur. He continues towards me slowly, bringing his head up and resting it on my shoulder.

I want to cry.

"Hi," I say again, wringing my hands through his fur. "Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi hi." I laugh out the last few greetings. I sound crazed, but I don't care. My other hand comes up to grab him as I hug his head to my shoulder. "Eight." I murmur.

I knew that was the wrong thing to say as soon as the word left my mouth. The lion retracts, pulling his head from my grasp and backing away, a growl building in his throat. He looks at us all one more time, his eyes ending on me.

He turns and ran. But I couldn't bear to see him go. Not like this, not again. He was so close, just to be taken from me once again.

"Wait!" I screamed, reaching a hand out as if I could just grab him. "Please, Eight! Don't go!" But it was no use; he had disappeared into the darkness. "Eight!" I kept on screaming. "Joseph!" I yelled, completely desperate. "Naveen!"

And then he was there. Not a lion, but _him_. He looked exactly the same as the day I had first met him: cotton pants, no shirt. This time, however, his arms were crossed over his chest and his face was twisted in a scowl. "How do you know my name?" He asked, glare pointed directly at me.

* * *

**A/N: DUM DUM DUUUUM! I'm feeling a little evil right now, but I actually stopped it here because the chapter was getting way too long. But oh my gosh, EIGHT IS BACK! Let the fluff begin! (Legit, things are going to get very fluffy in here, so prepare yourselves)**

**I wanted to work it in somewhere, but I just never got it in. For those of you who didn't read the Novella Nine's Legacy, the spider-girl was Maddy, Nine's love interest who ended up betraying him to the Mogs in return for her parents and then they killed her blah blah blah. But she did really like him, and it kind of sucks that we never get to see any kind of closure or emotional reaction from Nine, so voila: closure! I think she's the only other Novella character that's in the story, so from now on no going off the grid.**

**And of course the other two things they saw were Hannu getting killed by the Mogadorian in I am Number Four and my interpretation of a sick Albert, Five's Cepan. I just wanted to play on some of Marina's guilts. So why was Crayton giving her a helping hand? And why is Sarah now a wicked witch if she's everything but one? Those questions and more will be answered if you stay tuned!**

**Until next time~Breelin**


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